Knock, Knock Who's there?
by teacupsNmints
Summary: Outtakes and additonal POVs to enlighten, amuse and satisfy the readers of Open Door Policy and Other Side of the Door.
1. Banging My Head Against the Door EmPov

**Everybody has been seriously hating on Emmett---so I felt it was only fair to give him a chance to speak. Let me know what you think of the asshole after you read his side of the story.**

**As always---the characters are Stephenie's---I just wish they were mine!**

**_______________________________________________________________________**

**Banging My Head Against the Door ---Emmett's POV**

Ya know. Life is fucked up. Sometimes, when you think you're doin' the right thing--- you end up fuckin' everybody else.

Turns out, I'm a selfish man. I didn't plan to be---but I am. I put myself first when making a decision that I thought would make or break me---and fuck-- it has.

When you meet that one person who has the ability to completely change your life and make it absolutely complete, you know it; even somebody like me.

I knew I was fortunate to have met my soul mate early in my life. Rosalie Hale was a good girl ---innocent---before she took up with me. The chemistry between the two of us was like a force of nature. We couldn't help it---we couldn't control it. It was a yearning more powerful than either one of us. There was no point in resisting. We had to be together---it was like a magnetic energy or a magic spell.

I'd always admired her. The first time I ever saw her was at Football practice her freshman year. She was the hottest thing ever to slip on a junior varsity cheerleading uniform. You didn't go to a game and not notice Rosalie Hale.

I remember the first time I tasted her lips. We were playing "7 Minutes in Heaven" in Eric Yorkie's basement. I was an eager participant---there were lots of hot girls there that night. Most of them I'd already encountered, so when Rosalie's name was picked out of that hat for me, I felt like a lucky man. Little did I know how lucky.

Rosalie was being uncharacteristically shy and nervous while sitting with me on the floor of Eric's dark closet. I may have been a bit of a womanizer in high school, but I was also a gentleman. I offered her my hand and introduced myself. We had spent many evenings together on the same bus to away games or at pep rallies---but we'd never spoken a word. She accepted my hand and a sort of spark ignited in me. It was unlike anything I'd ever known. Somehow, even in that pitch black closet, I knew that this girl was different.

"Everybody out there has a certain expectation of what we're gonna do in here." I said.

Though she giggled, her voice trembled nervously. "I know."

"We don't have to do anything more than you're comfortable with." I assured her.

"Okay."

"Can I kiss you?" I asked, for the first time ever afraid of being rejected by a member of the opposite sex.

"I guess." She replied hesitantly.

I figured she just wasn't interested in me. "Nevermind---you can tell them anything you want." I said as I started to stand up.

Rosalie took my hand and gently pulled me back toward her. "I'd like to ---to---kiss you, but ---I might not----you might---you might be disappointed. Ummm---my mom doesn't let me get out much."

I couldn't believe that the hot head cheerleader with the kick-ass body I'd admired at our many football games, the one that could easily bring me to my knees in her short skirt and her wiggling hips, was offering me her very first kiss.

I placed my fingers on her flawless cheek, stroking gently with my thumb, and leaned toward her. I started out slowly, allowing her to become comfortable with our proximity first, then with the feel of my lips on hers. Before I had the chance to initiate another thing, Rosalie Hale's perfect lips parted against mine. I twisted my fingers in her ponytail trying to control my less gentlemanly parts, and allowed her full command of deepening our kiss. It was as if God himself had hand picked me the most luscious strawberry---ripe, sweet and delicious. I savored her for weeks after until I had the nerve to ask her out.

But Rosalie Hale was not permitted to date. She was far too precious to be man handled by any Forks boy. No, her mother had other plans for her. She was to attend Harvard, meet a nice law student and settle down with a man of an acceptable social status. The only reason Rosalie was at Eric's party at all, was because she'd been spending the night at Jessica Stanley's house---and Jessica's parents had few rules.

Rosalie wanted to be respectful of her mother's wishes, but our feelings knew no bounds. So, we had to see each other, hold one another--- in secret. Over time, the sneakin' around became pretty easy---old hat. We had a routine of sorts. We were pretty free on the land behind my home and we always made good use of the forest behind the gym during the school dances that followed each football game. That's where we first made love, Rose and I. I never wanted to know another woman besides her. I didn't need to. Rosalie Hale had already given me the taste of heaven I knew no other girl could possibly offer

My senior year---right before play-offs--- **I sold my soul**.

It was late on a Friday. Rose and I had snuck off after the game to spend some "quality time" behind the gym. That's what Rose insisted we call it. Anything else, she'd said, sounded dirty. I'd brought an old blanket this time, and some bottles of rootbeer. Rose brought grapes. She was teasing me with them---pretending to feed me and pulling them away just as I closed my mouth. I retaliated by tickling her and our playfulness, combined with carnal lust, led us to making good use of that blanket. Wrapped up in our moment, we didn't notice when the music stopped and the gym parking lot had emptied. Rose ran ahead home, terrified, knowing that her mother would be up waiting. I stayed behind to collect our belongings, erasing any sign that we'd ever been there. I didn't care what people thought of me, but I couldn't have them sullying Rose's character.

Just as I'd grabbed the blanket and folded it under my arm, I heard footsteps from within the bushes. "Who's there?" I shouted.

All I could hear was the unnerving sound of someone sucking their breath through their teeth.

I sorted through the bundle in my arms for one of the root beer bottles, unsure of what I was up against. "Come any closer and I'll fucking knock your head right off your shoulders." I warned.

"Oh---I don't think so. You will do no such thing." Said the woman whose face I could not yet make out. "Emmett Cullen, isn't it?"

"Yea---what's it to you?" I asked.

"I'll tell you ---what's it to me. It is everything to me." Her words were clipped and I could tell she was angry.

The closer she drew, the more I could make out her features. Mrs. Hale. Rosalie's mother. I had never even spoken to that woman before, but I'd heard my mother, Esme, reference her more than once. Mom worked with her on many projects as part of the Mother's booster organization at school. It was hard to get to my calm and peaceful mother, but Mrs. Hale had inspired even my mother to refer to her as a bitch on more than one occasion.

Her words slithered from her lips. "You see Emmett Cullen; I understand that you are a big deal here at Fork's High. What girl wouldn't be dazzled by the star football player? And though my Rosalie is beautiful and intelligent, she is very innocent and naive. Or at least she was before you tainted her."

I stood with my jaw open, unable to speak, my mind too preoccupied with thoughts of how long she'd actually been watching us to how the hell I was going to get out of there.

Her voice was sugary---but too much so---like Cruella DeVille luring the puppies. "So Emmett, what are your plans for the future?"

I thought this was good. Perhaps if I could impress her---if I gave her the right answer---Rosalie and I might have her blessing. "I'm hoping to get a football scholarship to State and study sports education. I'd like to be a coach someday." I was pleased with my response.

"Education. Hmmm---a very noble profession---for someone willing to spend their days living a blue collar life. No, that simply won't do for my Rosalie." She spoke as if hers was the only say that mattered.

"I mean no disrespect, Mrs. Hale. But I believe who Rosalie dates or doesn't date should be her decision."

"Is that so? I bet your mother's dream is for you to get that football scholarship, isn't it? And your father---I've watched the pride on his face at each game. How do you think they would feel if you somehow got blackballed from State? I've heard such horrible things CAN happen if you make poor decisions. In real life Emmett, who you know can and will make or break you."

I didn't answer. I got what she was saying. She was trying to bully me into believing she could prevent my scholarship, as well as, ask for a favor to benefit me. Being young and invincible, I chose to call her bluff. I continued seeing Rosalie.

The following Friday, Coach announced before the game that the scout from State would be in the stands that night. I recognized him immediately, having spotted him each year as he came to scope out the current seniors.

Just before kick-off, I noticed the scout approach Mrs. Hale. He hugged her like a long lost relative and shook Mr. Hale's hand. More than once, I noticed their heads huddled together as Rosalie's mother pointed in my direction. I was so distracted, I had trouble focusing. That night was not my best game.

At the dance that followed, when Rosalie hinted for us to escape for "quality time", I told her I wasn't in the mood. When I asked her who the man was sitting with her parents, she said it was her "Uncle Peter"---even though there was no blood-relation. He was an old and close family friend.

I received a letter from the scout from State that week. Coach gave it to me. It said that State was interested in offering me a full ride but it was contingent on my behavior for the remainder of the school year. I knew exactly what that meant.

I tried to dissuade Rosalie without purposely hurting her feelings. I loved her. I pressed that she was too good for me---which she was. But, she wouldn't hear it.

Mrs. Hale came to me with news of a girl who was perfect for me. Bella. Why she chose Bella, I don't know. I assumed that she'd heard somehow that Bella was interested in me. So I resigned myself, out of fear, to the fact that that was just how it was to be. Of course, looking back with adult eyes, I see how gullible and foolish I was---but, of course, I am in far too deep now.

I had already started working on my pursuing of Miss Swan when I learned my brother had a crush on her. Edward had never shown even the slightest interest in a member of the opposite sex his whole life. Remembering my own first crushes, I figured she was probably just the first girl that made his dick hard---and he'd move on.

So, I did what I was told. I broke Rosalie's heart, alienated my brother and dated Bella Swan. And, being the selfish ass that I am, I couldn't just date her---hell, I had to marry her.

My poor wife. Bella was so young and innocent when I first met her. She'd never even dated another guy. She tried to put me off---unsure and intimidated by the whirlwind I had to offer----but I was on a mission. She didn't have a chance.

Once I got to know her, I did love Bella---how could you not. And I was in love with the way my family took to her---well, except Edward. Now I wish he'd have stuck around more---made it harder for me to look at him. But he hid---so me, the selfish bastard, just carried on.

Once Bella and I went away to college, sticking together through ups and downs, learning to live away from home, I truly felt I was in love with her. We got an apartment together senior year and planned a wedding---it was the natural progression of things, I thought.

Then, we moved back to Forks and I ran into Rosalie Hale at the grocery store. She'd majored in business at Harvard, but missed home too much to stay away more than 2 years. She left college without even an Associate's Degree. The moment our eyes met, I could see that I was not alone in the feelings I had running like electrical currents throughout my body. From then on I tried to avoid her, but Bella decided she'd be the perfect assistant for me. And that was the beginning of the end.

I have had a very difficult time working with Rose. It's like tempting an addict with heroin. I guess, in a way, Rose is my own special brand of heroin. I should not have her, but I cannot live with out her.

Rose has never given in to my eagerness in the office. She respects Bella and has always made a point to keep her distance from me. That is --- until tonight.

Who would guess that Satan herself could have given birth to the angel before me? Rose did nothing to deserve the pain I have caused her repeatedly over the years, yet here she is, my head in her chest, stroking my hair, comforting me. She is my first love, my one true love, my Goddess. I continue sobbing, because I'm afraid if I stop, she'll leave.

I cannot allow myself to lose her again. Yet, how do I break a vow to God and purposely cause my wife heartbreak that she also does not deserve?

Who'd have guessed that one scared teenager could make a momentary decision that would cause a lifetime of pain to the people he loves the most and probably doesn't even fucking deserve?


	2. Whitlost and Found JPOV

**I started writing this for the For the Love of Jasper Contest---but got side-tracked. I was challenged by my beta Emilyg80 to write something else---that turned into ****Riders on the Storm**** which I entered in the For the Love of Jasper Contest. It ****is angsty and romantic and SLASH (which is new for me!). Check it out if it sounds interesting---and if you like it I'd appreciate your vote. It will be in the second round of voting.**

**http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2023698/For_the_Love_of_Jasper**

**I had always been committed to the character of Whitlost and new I'd complete his outtake no matter what. In fact, if you all enjoy this---I may be inspired to continue this Whitlost outtake. **

**All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer---but Whitlost is MINE!**

**~~~2009~~~** That old familiar click of brass on the heavy wooden door caught my attention and brought me back to the here and now. The final patron of the night, one of my many financial supporters, finally bid my establishment adieu.

I wasn't sure exactly how long I'd been sitting on that stool, my feet propped up on the bar. My mind was filled with thoughts of the journey I'd taken in order to become the man I now was. And I smiled at the tiny handbag hanging from the Yuengling tap, thinking of the possibilities of my deepest desires finally coming to fruition.

My mind darted to the clock on the wall. No telling how long I'd been lost in thought. The last thing I remembered was Laurent telling me one of his good old day's stories. Laurent was a regular at my pub: Whitlock's Fine Spirits and Ale. He'd been sharing stories with me for years. Pretty sure I'd heard each and every one of them at least a hundred times. But I always looked forward to Laurent's stories, they were vintage and raw. It was the people of Forks like Laurent that made me want to wake up in the morning, put on my faded fedora and come on in to work. Actually, it's because of Laurent, that I had a black and white fedora at all.

**~~2004~~** It was graduation night. I'd been antsy all day long. Never one for pomp and circumstance, I hadn't even intended to order a cap and gown. But thanks to a little dark haired siren, who had haunted my every thought since freshman year, I found myself slipping in line behind her to be measured a month earlier.

As I sat at the commencement exercises listening to our beautiful blonde valedictorian lead the pep rally of her life sans pompoms, I realized how ridiculous it all was---the whole rite of passage. It meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't until the Salutatorian began to mumble a few words nobody listened to anyway, that I finally began to pay attention. He spoke of each person being a unique individual and how each had their own time and place. He stressed the importance of finding the environment in which you could truly thrive. He was going to college overseas... England. I hadn't made such extravagant plans. I hadn't made any plans at all.

That guy, his trench coat peeking out from below his gown, reiterated that "if where you are, isn't conducive with who you want to be--- it might just be time to move on." It was quite a pointed message.

That is when I realized it was indeed that said time. I'd had about enough of the old town that had watched each of my 18 birthdays come and go. There was nothing left for me there. Although I had movie tickets for an opening the following week that I'd just purchased that morning, I suddenly knew what I needed to do. I was just itchin' to get out; needed to stretch my legs a little. Of nothing else had I ever been more certain.

So I packed up everything I owned into the back my Dad's hand-me-down vintage yellow Gremlin and headed east in the middle of the night. I remembered looking back at my most prized possessions through the rear view mirror: my Doors albums, my suitcase full of old journals and my Fender. Those were days long before I'd ever even touched a keyboard or an accordion. Such a young pup I was; completely wet behind the ears. But I knew that.

I drove for days until I found myself in Kansas City putting coins in a meter in front of the American Jazz Museum. I knew little about jazz, beyond Dad's Herbie Hancock collection. I spent days wandering the halls of that building, pressing buttons and hearing the sounds of the greats. I admired every poster from an era whose spirit still lingered in the midst. Just when I'd seen all I thought the museum had to offer a hand touched my shoulder.

"Young man, you have been here everyday for almost two weeks. Is there something I can help you with?"

His voice sounded of experience and heartache and understated joy.

I shrugged "I don't know."

"Well, what is it you are looking for?" He asked.

I thought for a moment, of everything I knew and everything I lacked.

"Enlightenment." I said.

I looked up inquisitively at his shiny brown face--- cheeks full, smile wide--- and took his hand when he offered it.

"The name is Laurent. See the man in that poster there?" He pointed to a young man wearing a thin tie and a fancy fedora, his skin the color of coffee with just a touch of cream.

"Uh huh. Why, you know him?" I beamed at the thought of meeting someone of the genuine article.

Laurent's eyes danced. "I think I can help you out after all, young fella. Meet me out front at 9pm--- sharp."

I thought of nothing else the entire afternoon, unsure what my new friend had in mind. But, seeing as I knew no one else in all of Missouri, I was pleased to have plans.

The Gremlin and I pulled up to the curb in front of the museum at 8:45---just to make sure I didn't miss anything. Nobody else was parked along the street, but I parallel parked anyway---something to do. I was listening to Ella Fitzgerald in Dad's old 8-Track player. Good thing about an appreciation for vintage music was I could always find it in second hand stores on 8-Track tape.

Ella was singing "It Was Written in the Stars" and my thoughts drifted to Alice Brandon. She was a girl I knew in High school. Well, a girl I knew of, anyway. We'd never actually spoken, but we shared many jokes. We always seemed to be at the same place at the same time when something entertaining would happen, and our eyes would meet as similar smiles spread across our faces. Yep, that Alice Brandon was what my dreams were made of. And I'd always felt that Ella was right, it was written in the stars---and our paths would cross again someday.

Just as Ms Fitzgerald began belting out "Do Nothing Till You Hear from Me", I was startled from my thoughts. I looked up to find the kind face of my new friend Laurent peeking in as he tapped on my passenger side window. I opened the door and he slid into the seat.

"So Romeo, who's the girl?" he asked, his wide smile showing a mouth full of white teeth.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" I said.

"No fella listens to Ella less there's a girl. Is she pretty?"

I shook my head side to side, unable to believe how transparent I must have been. I looked at Laurent and switched directions turning the shake into a nod.

He laughed a deep laugh that I believe must have started in his toes. "Tell me."

And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I told Laurent St. James all about Alice Brandon: the girl of my dreams—just not my reality.

Laurent listened quietly as he led me to a shanty of a building. The flashing sign out front, including the letters that were no longer lit, read "Club Dazzle". On the surface the old building only offered potential guests peeling paint and broken shutters; dissuading the typical tourist from the real treasure to be found just beyond the old wooden door. Laurent led me inside where I was met with wide eyed glances from the handful of older gentlemen currently occupying the establishment.

The tables were round, black with small wooden folding chairs wrapped around them. The wooden floor shined, though the deterioration from years of saddle shoes, boots, oxfords, loafers and stilettos was evident beneath the glow. It edged right up to a black and white checker laminate dance floor, which sat just below the stage. Heavy velvet curtains, scarlet in color with gold brocade trim framed the stage where an older woman belted out a tune that made my foot tap and my head nod.

Laurent looked at me and smiled. "That there's Ms. Victoria DeVamp. She's been singin' here since I was a youngster myself. Still stunning…and back in the day… she make you wish you had the world to offer just to make her smile your direction."

Still nodding to the music, I answered. "I know the type."

Cocktail waitresses were dressed in costumes straight from the era of Jazz. Any one of them could have been worn by a cigarette or hat check girl. It was like taking a step back in time….a time where I felt I belonged.

The third night Laurent took me to the club; he introduced me to a woman named Maria. I'll never forget the red rose in her hair when she walked in like she was the mistress of the establishment. She was the daughter of a guitar player, and sang occasionally as well. She had an extraordinary voice, matched only by her exotic beauty. She rendered me speechless. But words were not necessary with Maria. I'm not even sure she spoke English.

She was amazing---Lolita to my Zorro (well, minus the sword and overflowing confidence).

"Joss-pairrrr" she called me. "Joss-pairrr, tomame. Tomame por favor."

_Fuck_, I loved it when she rolled her R's. Then she'd guide my hand or my dick or my mouth to wherever she wanted me. There were no words, no introductions, no apologies, nothing. It was Maria and me and SEX. And damn it was good. She was my first. Oh, but what a way to be broken in. The first taste of water to a man lost and desperate in the desert of life; thirst quenched out of raw need and desire. Our passion was unbridled and fast, but never more than physical attraction. Not the type of love to make a man stick around.

Once I felt it was time to move on, Laurent wished me luck in finding my way. I got the feeling he'd not wanted me to leave, but he knew what it was like to be a young man on a journey. The next morning, I found his black and white fedora, the one he'd worn in the photo on the poster taken so long ago. With it I found a note and a phone number. "Drop a line from time to time and always enjoy the music" was all it said.

**~~2009~~ **The time on the clock finally registered. 1:38 am. My eyes moved to the cell phone on the counter and I once again became the pimple faced boy who gazed at Alice Brandon endlessly from the shadows of Forks High years ago. My hands shook as I pressed send and waited for the voice from my dreams on the other end.

"Hello?"

She sounded of sleep and tousled hair and scanty clothes, and the mental picture of it all made my manly parts moan.

I took a deep breath and spoke.

"Good evening Ms Brandon. My sincerest apologies for interrupting your slumber."

"You are fucking kidding me. A telemarketer---at this time of night…"

"No, I assure you not. Please don't hang up. I call regarding your cousin Bella."

"Shit, you've got her phone! Where's Bella? Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine. While imbibing at my establishment earlier this evening, she seems to have indulged a tad too much. And in her haste to leave, she failed to remember her handbag."

Momentary relief was evident in Alice Brandon's voice.

"Oh---hey, you didn't let her drive like that, did you? Because you know you're responsible if anything happens…"

"I assure you sweet lady; your Bella is perfectly safe and sound. I made certain of it."

"You called her a cab?"

"No, I called a certain Mr. Cullen to retrieve his fair maiden and return her for slumber in her own home."

"Oh good, Emmett will take care of her."

"Actually, it was Edward Cullen I called. She appeared quite intolerable of her husband this evening."

"Really?" She paused for a moment. During the silence, I pictured her forehead scrunched, forming the cutest little wrinkles on her nose. "Well, thank you for your kindness to my cousin. That was very nice of you to care for her well-being."

"Appears that is something we two have in common." I stated; certain to point out the similarity we shared. I was sure there'd be more.

I gave Alice the address she needed to retrieve the bag. Much to my surprise, she said she'd be right over.

It became apparent to me as I waited for her that I'd not mentioned my name. She had no idea that the man she was meeting was someone who once admired her from afar. Would she recognize me? Had she ever even known I'd existed?

**~~2004~~ **I arrived at school early that morning. I'd written a song for Alice Brandon and I'd planned to give it to her when I saw her that day. I saw her everyday from under the fire escape outside the cafeteria. I'd never even attempted to speak or make eye contact. But earlier that week I found myself feeling sorry for the fellow I saw every day under that same stairwell. Clad in a dated trench coat, his hair covering his face, he waited patiently each day to lust after the girl of his dreams...just like me. _I couldn't appear that desperate, could I? _I decided something had to be done.

My hand was deep in my pocket, my fingers clenched tightly around the song I had written for Ms. Brandon several months earlier. I'd never actually intended for her to hear or see those lyrics, but that day I would make sure she did.

The scenario played out in my mind many times. She would walk by laughing with her cousin. I would step out from under the steps, offer my hand, and introduce myself. I would admit that I found her beauty and zest for life awe-inspiring and tell her she dazzled me. That's when I'd hand her the song.

But, on that particular day, they weren't alone. Alice did pass me with her cousin Bella on their way to gym…like every other day. But walking with them that particular day was Emmett Cullen, star football player and renowned bully. During my lengthy school career in Forks, I'd landed in more than one garbage can and had my hair dampened in a few different toilets all at the hand of Emmett Cullen.

I didn't dare approach Alice, for fear of embarrassment in her presence. I tucked the paper deep into my pocket and lurked back into the shadows to rejoin that poor soul with the trench coat. Kindred spirits we were, he and I. And by the look on his face, I wasn't sure whose day had taken a turn for the worst: his or mine.

**~~~2009~~~ ** I was brought back to reality by the tiniest knock on the door. I jumped from my stool. It was her.

I opened the door in haste, trying not to appear too eager.

She was even more beautiful than I'd remembered her in school. Her hair was still dark and pointing in every direction to perfection; organized chaos. It suited her. She was wearing form fitting jeans and a white sweater that, much to my approval, scooped just low enough for me to admire the exquisite lines of her neck which traveled down to just above her heavenly softness. A tiny suit coat, pink, topped the sweater but hung open with a striped scarf hanging from around the collar. She took my breath away.

Then I looked up, into her eyes, and saw recognition there. My stomach did a flip until I saw a smile make its way across her face.

"I remember you. Forks High class of 04. Jasper Whitlock, right?"

I nodded and I felt the warmth of embarrassment spread over me. To my relief, she changed the subject.

"Jeesus, what the hell happened here?" Alice said, pointing out all the leftover fragments of broken dishes.

"The lovelorn maiden was a bit out of character this evening."

"Bella did this? What the hell?"

"She was more than a bit distressed."

"But Edward has her now?"

"I would say that, yes."

"What the hell did Emmett do?"

"All due respect, I don't feel it is my place to tell. But your dear cousin will probably be in need of an understanding ear in the days to come."

"Thank you. Though I want to shake you until you tell me what happened, I appreciate your loyalty. You're very admirable Mr. Whitlock."

Without thinking, I just spoke. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, Ms. Brandon."

She nibbled her bottom lip for a moment before finding her way behind my bar---like she owned it. She grabbed a broom and handed me the dustpan. "C'mon Mr. Whitlock, this place needs cleaning up. You can't open for business with this kind of mess."

I'd planned to come in early and clean before opening the next day. But spending the night with Alice Brandon, even if it was just cleaning, was a more than a dream for me.

"So you actually remembered me from school?"

"Sure, Forks isn't exactly a huge metropolis. Why wouldn't I remember you?"

"I wasn't---exactly---part of your crowd." _Or any crowd._ "I never thought you'd noticed me."

"Well, I did---you hung out with Edweird---uh Edward—under the stairwell by the cafeteria. I'd see you every day on my way to gym. Sometimes we even made eye contact."

_She remembered! _The pimple faced boy inside me squealed.

"I remember that. You walked with Bella, actually."

"Yes! Gosh, I wanted to talk to you so bad---but I never got up enough nerve." She giggled---as if that was the most trivial bit of information. But to me, it was SO much more.

"I wished you had. To me, you were a goddess and I was but an unworthy naïve."

The way Alice was looking at me made me wonder if I'd said something wrong.

"Say that again." she said.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"To me, you were a goddess and I was but an unworthy naïve." I repeated.

"Wow. I could just listen to you talk all night."

I laughed nervously and went back to work collecting the shards of broken stoneware and glass that covered much of my bar. My head jerked as I heard the familiar sound of coins tumble into the jukebox.

"Wow. I've never seen an assortment quite like this." Alice stated.

"I like to listen to the greats---from a variety of genres."

Her song began and I recognized the familiar sound of Ella Fitzgerald. Just as I began to recognize the song, a tiny hand with pink polish extended toward me.

"Care to dance, Mr. Whitlock?"

I looked up to find her beautiful brown eyes smiling at me. For the first time, in a very long time, I felt hope.

"It would be an honor and certainly my pleasure Ms. Brandon."

I placed one hand on the hip of the woman I'd dreamt of for so very long and took her hand in mine. Our bodies curved together naturally; a truly comfortable fit.

Alice snuggled into my chest, burying her head in my shoulder. I rested my cheek on the top of her head and held tightly to the small of her back. She felt comfortable and familiar, as if we'd been dancing together for years. Our bodies barely moved as we held one another closely, until Alice Brandon looked up at me with heavy lids and tilted her head just so. Year's worth of joy and anticipation overtook me and my knees began to tremble as I met her lips with mine. And we stayed like that, dancing and holding and kissing intimately, as Ms. Fitzgerald belted out the perfect song; the one Alice had chosen: "At Last".

_At last my love has come along  
My lonely days are over  
And life is like a song  
At last the skies above are blue  
And my heart was wrapped up in clover  
The night I looked at you  
I found a dream that I can speak to  
A dream that I could call my own  
I found a thrill to press my cheek to  
A thrill that I have never known  
You smiled, and then the spell was cast  
And here we are in heaven  
And you are mine at last_

**At last, indeed!**

**I hope this satisfies my patient Jacksper loving friends!**

**Please let me know what you think.**

**Reviewers get to slow dance with Jasper!**


	3. Should Have Locked the Door Rose's POV

**Your reviews inspired me to write!!! This is beta-free because I wanted to get it out to you quickly. Forgive me if I missed anything.**

**Twilight is Stephenie Meyer's. I only play with her characters.**

Rosalie's POV

~*~

I startled at the knock on my door. I couldn't imagine who it could be. I wasn't expecting a soul. And I'd already had one unannounced visitor. Then I opened the door to discover the last two people I'd ever have imagined standing there. Bella and Edward.

I thought Bella might call me, but the timing of her visit couldn't have been worse! I knew exactly how things would look, especially if she knew Emmett was naked in my shower. It was amazing to me that she actually believed I'd fought off Emmett's advances even though we'd once had feelings for one another. But she did, she trusted me. And now THIS! If I'd known the turn the day was going to take, I'd have never let him in.

Earlier in the day, just after lunchtime, I decided to stroll down to the Starbucks on the corner to get a paper and a cappuccino. On the way back, I noticed Emmett's truck parked to the side of my building. When I peeked in the window, I saw that he was asleep in the driver's seat. I should have left him there. I should have walked off. But I couldn't. The sight of him there, all disheveled---his suitcase open on the seat beside him, made my heart ache. I wondered just how long he'd been there.

Tapping on the window with my fingernail, his eyes slowly opened. They were red and swollen. When he saw my face, he faintly smiled. Without saying a word, I motioned him with a crook of my finger to come on in.

I few minutes after I'd gotten upstairs and sat down to read the paper, I heard my front door open. Emmett stood before me, an absolute wreck, in the clothes I'd seen him wearing two nights before.

"Rosie, babe, I'm sorry…" He'd never stopped calling me that- "Babe"- all the time he'd been married, even in the office. It should have bothered me. I shouldn't have liked it. But I did; pathetic, I know! But it always made me feel a little less alone. Even if it was completely wrong.

_I could remember the first time he'd ever used that endearment. It was after an away game. I told my mom I was meeting the girls for a soda after. But I was really sneaking off to be with Emmett. Mother wouldn't have approved. She didn't think Emmett was good enough for me. She's the one who started this whole mess, trying to chase him away. _

_We slipped out behind his house. It was the first time I'd been there. God, I was so innocent back then. So naïve. Emmett grabbed a thick blanket from the shed and a basket with sodas and a bag of pretzels he must have stashed there before the game. He took my hand and I followed him deep into the forest, past the cherry trees on the edge of their property. The air was strong with the scent the blossoms; almost intoxicating. We walked until we came to a clearing. He draped the blanket across the wildflowers that scattered the ground and motioned for me to join him. We talked and laughed about school and the football games. Emmett was very charming and I loved just talking with him about anything. And he loved me. I could tell. Lots of boys showed an interest in me back then, but none like Emmett. He kissed me and I felt tingly. He touched me and I craved more. That night was the first time I'd ever been completely alone with a boy. We did a lot of things that night; things I'd never done before. Our kisses turned passionate and I let him slip his hands inside my sweater. I felt my nipples harden to the touch of a man. He placed my hand on the bulge in his pants, and I felt it quake in response to my touch. His fingers slipped under my skirt and into my panties, making us both aware of exactly how wet I was there; how much I wanted him. That's when I told him I wasn't ready and he needed to stop. Actually, I knew if I didn't stop myself at that moment, I never would have and we'd have gone too far. I'm sure Emmett would have liked to have done more. But when I got scared, he stopped without hesitation. "Babe, don't be silly. We have the rest of our lives to enjoy each other. I love you too much to do anything that could jeopardize what we have together."_

Looking at the man standing before me, I saw only a shell of the kind and caring boy I'd known. Life had torn him apart; beaten him down at a tender age. And he never really found a way to get back up.

His eyes were full of tears and void of hope. "I know I shouldn't have come here---but Bella threw me out and I had nowhere else to go."

I should have made him leave. But when I looked into his eyes…I could see that he really was completely lost. I couldn't help but feel for him. He was still paying for a decision he'd made as a teenager.

"Did you spend the night parked on the street last night?" I asked with a sick feeling in my stomach.

"No. Mostly I've been driving around since I left the house. I parked outside your building about 5am, when I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I was gonna go to the office, but I was afraid the security people would talk, so I came here. I didn't know where else to go."

"What about your parents' house, Emmett? Esme would never turn you away."

He looked down, focusing hard; unable to face me. "I just couldn't take…her…being all disappointed in me. It's going to hurt her, Rosie."

Overwhelmed by his lack of regard for all the anguish he'd caused---including my own pain, my reaction surprised even me. "It's hurting everybody, Emmett!" I shouted.

"I know!" He roared with frustration. "I really fucked up."

_No shit!_

I looked down to the black suitcase he'd set on the floor beside him. "Well, you can't stay here. Not now anyway. She's your mom, Emmett. You have to tell her sometime. She'll understand."

"I...I...can't hurt her like that. I can't have her look at me like…like what I am…a huge disappointment."

My heart ached for him. I knew it shouldn't, but it did anyway. "Yes, she'll be upset. But she'll understand. And you're not a huge disappointment, Emmett. Everyone makes mistakes."

"And you, Rosalie? Are you disappointed in me?"

"Emmett, I have been disappointed in you for years. I was disappointed in high school when you just stopped seeing me without so much as an explanation. You disappointed me when I heard you were marrying Bella. I was disappointed when I found out that you let my mother, of all people, bully you to an extent that it changed your life. And I continued to be disappointed when you repeatedly insisted you still loved me, yet you remained married to Bella. But for some reason beyond my control, I cannot stop loving you back, anyway---even though I want to. Believe me, I've tried."

"Thanks," he said before becoming very quiet for a moment. Then the big lug smiled that dimpled smile I could never resist. "Just to show how considerate I can be, I won't even hit on you for saying that." I shook my head and got a towel from the linen closet; throwing it at him.

I suggested that Emmett shower and get cleaned up. And I promised him that, afterward, I'd go with him to his parents' house for moral support as he explained to Esme everything that had happened. I honestly didn't think it was appropriate for me to be there, but he had insisted with such insecurity and fear that I didn't know how to deny him.

While Emmett was showering, there came the knock on the door. I was shocked when I opened the door a crack to find Bella and Edward standing there. I should have just stepped out and closed the door. I should have explained the situation. But, instead, I journeyed even deeper into Emmett's mess. She had come over to thank me---for what, I don't know---and I made it even worse for her. Based on Bella's behavior when Emmett stepped into view wearing only a towel, I knew she thought I was having an affair with her husband. I was completely shocked by the intensity of her reaction. I'd known Edward had been holding a torch for her since high school. But I had no idea she had feelings for him in return.

My mouth agape, I watched as she latched onto Edward and practically forced her tongue down his throat. They just stood there, in my doorway, completely making out. It really was quite the spectacle.

The only thing that surprised me more was the sound of Emmett's fist when it put a hole in my door.


	4. Upon the Threshold

**A friend mentioned she'd like a peek from Emmett's POV of what Carlisle may have had to say to him. So here it is! Thanks feeb01 for the 12 days of teh pretty last week!**

**Everything Twilight belongs to Stephenie. **

**Upon the Threshold: EmPOV**

I looked over at Bella in my truck. Her eyes all puffy and shit. I felt bad...really bad. I wouldn't blame her if she hated me. I guess I always figured she would in the end. I'd do something to fuck things up. And, of course, I did.

Every now and then, I'd see her eyes dart over toward me and I looked away. It's not that I cared if she knew I was looking at her. She and I were way past all that shit. It was just that I was having a hard time facing her. She didn't deserve this. She sure as hell didn't deserve me. If I'd just minded my own business, respected my brother and left her alone...none of it would have ever happened. But I guess I've always been just a selfish prick. Bella Swan Cullen deserved so much better than me. She deserved...Edward.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about that. Bella with Edward. Just thinking about it made me want to punch something. I knew I had no right to feel that way. I mean, you can't help who you're meant to be with...no more than I could help my connection with Rose. But the thought of him...kissing her...touching her...fucking her... made my blood boil.

I parked by the curb in front of my parents' house. I guess it'd be my home again now, too. I sat in the driver's seat for a while thinking about what I would say. Who would speak first? Who would "out" who? What would my mother say? How would my dad react? It wasn't until I glanced at Bella that I noticed my parents through the passenger side window. They were standing in their doorway looking at us and smiling. They were so happy to see us.

Shit! If I could have driven away at that moment, I would have. But Bella wouldn't have allowed that...she's all class, like my mom. We had to go in.

I opened Bella's door for her. I might have been an asshole, but I could be a gentleman, too. As we walked to the door, I looked at my wife...at least she was for now. She had that strong stubborn look; the one she always wore when there was no stopping her. I always envied quality. She'd always been so much stronger than me . Shit, I could damn near bench press my truck. But Bella, she carried her strength on the inside where it really mattered.

We no sooner got to the door when my Mom started going on and on about a surprise. She didn't get that we were upset...that our fucking lives were falling apart. No, she wanted us to close our damn eyes. I tried to stop her, but my Dad got all authoritative and demanded that we humor her.

Then, she pulled out a framed picture of Bella's name and she winked at me like I was supposed to know what it fucking meant.

I just wanted to shout "Stop the fucking games already. We need to talk to you!" But I couldn't. I knew my Mom meant well.

"Cute Mom. You painted Bella's name for her. Wow, that looks like the old green paint from the basement when we were kids."

That's when it hit me. It WAS the old green paint from the basement. It was the color Edward and I were supposed to paint over, except I left him to do it. Today, of all days, my mother chose to give Bella a token of affection... from fucking Edward!"

I looked over at my wife and she was holding the frame like it was a damn treasure; gently rubbing her fingers over each letter, tracing them like it was the fucking Mona Lisa---all priceless and shit.

Then she took her glasses off and my Mom noticed that her face was worn from crying. And, before I could stop her, she took my glasses off too. Then, instead of asking if we were okay, she started panicking about Edward and whether **he** was alright. Jesus..fucking..Christ! We were the ones crying and she was asking if something was wrong with **Edward**!

""No, Mom. Nothing is wrong with Edward. He's just fucking great!" I said with a little more edge than I probably should have used. My dad went off on me for speaking that way to my mom. And I knew I'd feel bad about it later, but at that moment I was too angry. Every fucking woman in my life was all worried about my piss ant little brother...while my life was falling apart.

We all sat there for a while, quiet. Then, my mom just couldn't let it go. "Obviously something is very wrong. Someone please tell us what is going on?" she asked.

I snapped, grabbing the painting from Bella's hands and yelling again. "This! This is what's wrong! **I** didn't paint this for Bella!"

Mom looked at me, completely confused. "What? I don't understand."

I tried to make her understand, but my words came out too emotionally charged. "I didn't paint the picture. I didn't carve the tree out back... I'm sure you've found that , too. I didn't do any of those things." Then it just tumbled from my lips, although I'd hadn't even considered saying it yet. "And Bella and I ...we're getting divorced!"

Bella punched the shit out of my arm, and I knew I deserved it. I'd just been a total ass to my mom; the very person I had been so worried about hurting. I looked into my mother's eyes, and they looked flat, lifeless...disappointed.

"Let's all sit down and sort this out." my father said as he moved to the dining room table. He insisted I start at the beginning, so I did. I told them everything. Everything about Rose in high school. Everything about Mrs. Hale. I told them about how Edward had told me he was hot for Bella and how I went after her anyway when Mrs. Hale told me she liked me. I spilled it all...so much that my Mom left the room followed by Bella.

My dad sat with his head in his hands. I watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. Then, when he finally looked up, there was no doubt.

Rage.

I had seen my father angry with me before...when I left my bike in the driveway, when I stayed out way past curfew without calling, when I failed a course at State because I kept oversleeping and it almost cost me my scholarship. But this...I'd never seen anything like this. My father was seething. He stared at me through slivers of red and said "I have never been more ashamed of you than I am right now."

"Dad, I know. I didn't know what to do. I was scared..."

"You were scared as a boy...and I can understand that. But, Son, boys don't get married. Boys don't buy homes. Boys don't plan families. You made those choices as a man. But you never manned up to the truth!"

"I did grow to love Bella. That was the truth."

"But Emmett, at what cost? You allowed that girl to live a lie. And your brother..."

He put his head back in his hands for a few moments before finishing. "Your mother cried so many nights wondering why Edward never came home to see us...why he wanted to move so far away. He came to you, trusted you, confided in you, counted on you... and you betrayed him! How could you do that...to your own brother? To bring that girl here on your arm for your brother to have to sit across from during holiday dinners and swallow down all the injustice he'd been dealt. And why? Because he was quiet, shy? Because he wasn't as aggressive as you? You bullied him and we allowed it. We failed him, Emmett! We all failed him! We failed Edward because we were all so busy catering to the Cullen boy who demanded the limelight that we neglected the one who preferred to hide in the shadows!"

My stomach sank as the venom of his words sunk into my gut and twisted around in there. It was harsh, callous, pitiless...and it was all true. Every word. It was ALL my fault. Edward leaving, Mom crying, Rose being alone all this time, Bella's unhappiness. It was all because of me. I watched my father hunched in his chair, all his fire expunged, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as he always did when I'd disappointed him over the years. But this time it was different, irreparable. I looked at my father, my hero, my biggest fan, my role model...and I could no longer fight the anguish that began in the pit of my stomach and escaped my lips as sobs. I looked at my father and I knew that I'd failed him, too.


End file.
